PaulZ pLace... ❗⭕❗⭕❗⭕❗⭕
◀️ (Click the pic for a full view)

The vibe here is chill... Make yourself at home...
I'll share a chuckle and a thought or two.

Many of us are going to hell...
Some of us are just taking the highway to get there...

(* ©April 2018-20 March Paul P. )
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My Private Mail Box 📌 🕖
Posted:Jul 12, 2018 9:41 am
Last Updated:Mar 30, 2020 1:00 pm
My Private Mail Box 📩 ....
Do you have something to share? Send me a private message and I'll reply promptly.
🍸 ☕
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Spaces... And The Barista... With the Beautiful Smile... 🌹
Posted:Mar 31, 2020 1:08 pm
Last Updated:Apr 1, 2020 6:38 am
Once upon a time, not too long ago...

... a palette of churlish textures and primal splashes of colour, painted this planet - daily - with surly themes. Yet some brush strokes shone through ; like sparkles from a wizard's wand. If you paid attention, you might have witnessed one of those ephemeral illusions ; those with the power to soothe your soul. I got lucky one day, although - it didn't feel like that at first.

Rain fell in cold sheets as the wind scowled in gusting swirls, just beyond that huge pane of glass - facing the street. I watched cars splash by, while people clutched umbrellas and hats and buried hands in pockets as they shuffled along. I was grateful for my place in that faint line. I inhaled the rich aroma that lingered in the air, stamped my feet and kicked the water off my shoes.

There was a roaring fire burning in the corner. A group of students were huddled around tables, clicking fingertips on open laptops. On those tall, black leather stools - facing the window - were a row of men and women buried in their phones. The clatter of dishes and chatter of smiling voices chimed just loudly enough to muffle the music and cloak everyone inside - with a blanket of warm relief. We all couldn't help but notice the wet commotion, as it unfolded beyond that glass. The barista ; the one with the beautiful smile and the hazel eyes? Well, she looked at me and spoke...

"Next...!" It seemed like a simple command, so I complied.

I walked towards the bar and ordered, then watched ; as she performed her craft. She, had perfected her sultry stride and moved with the eloquence of a skilled dancer. I hadn't realized, there were so many steps to pouring a consummate cup of coffee. Eventually, a gust of her scent drifted into my head as she (leaned forward and slowly), painted a perfect rose into my mug. She was quite the artist and it was fascinating to watch, as those frothy petals bloomed. I was... mesmerised.

I carried my steaming brew to a table and sat down. Afraid to spoil that piece of art - I just kinda stared at it for a minute. The barista glanced at me while I took a sip. I responded with a thumbs up. Her smile beamed back at me and across the room. And I suddenly realized - THAT'S what it was. You cope, until you find a space to call your own and then, just enjoy it ; wherever IT is.

I was content as I relished my rose and the warmth from the fireplace. Then... I overheard two young men talking at the table next to me.

"You can never trust women. They ALL , have vaginas..." both men nodded.

And just like that - my bubble burst. One can never completely escape reality ; it'll drop in uninvited, wherever there's an open door. That rose in my cup had vanished and it was time to move on out, into the rain. I did.

The streets were empty as I went by that coffee shop today. It was closed up and dark... yet I thought I heard laughter, from inside. It must have been my imagination.

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Nothing Is Original Anymore... So Steal From Everywhere ...😊
Posted:Mar 20, 2020 11:52 am
Last Updated:Mar 30, 2020 1:46 am
We live in a society of lazy, unimaginative, 'pretend' content providers. They've seeped into all the tiny cracks of social media, movies, music, pictures and few - have anything original to say.

Does that mean it's all been said?

These free range plagiarists, copy and paste across all levels of society and happily ply their craft with impunity - and claim something as their own - while everyone around them, ignorantly applauds (the rebranded stuff they spew)... and pats them on the back. People are too ignorant, lazy and indifferent to really give a shit.

And heck... does THAT - thought, picture, song, poem or story - really... 'look' all THAT similar to the original? Most people don't even care, if an original exists ; they're too busy clapping, to notice. I've clapped once or twice. I guess I'm guilty as well.

Here's what someone else thought about this topic. It was nicely stated. I wanted to steal it but instead, I give him credit at the end.

"Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows.

Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery - celebrate it if you feel like it.

In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from - it’s where you take them to."

Jim Jarmusch...
[MovieMaker Magazine #53 - Winter, January 22, 2004]

'It's not where you take things from - it's where you take them to' ; Now THERE'S an original thought.
I borrowed this pic from the net.
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A Sure Sign... The City You Live In Loves Sex.. 😊
Posted:Mar 16, 2020 12:23 pm
Last Updated:Mar 31, 2020 1:00 pm
I live in an eclectic, *supercilious city. It's millions of inhabitants have always been cavalier and somewhat self absorbed, about the realities beyond the shores of the prehistoric volcano island - on which it rests. That is... until last Wednesday.

That's, when the NHL cancelled the hockey season. It seems hockey, is the ONLY thing people here live for ; strange and sad. So... when I went to the supermarket and suddenly found bare shelves - a run on toilet paper and other doomsday necessities and condiments, had wiped them clean - I was mildly surprised. However... it was when I walked into a pharmacy - to look for bum paper - that my attention was captured, by the disappearance of another hot commodity.

ALL the condoms were sold out.

I imagine, while the world waits for sanity to return, WE , will wile our days and nights away - fucking - while watching perpetual replays of the '1993 Stanley Cup'; the last year we won. I stared at the empty condom racks and glanced at a pharmacy worker. She grinned and shrugged her shoulders.

I've never been a huge fan - of the 'cock sheath'. I always felt it killed the sensation. It numbed nerve endings and never felt as intimate as true - penis into vagina - skin on skin sliding, should have felt like. Sure, there are the practical reasons to use one ; protection against disease and unwanted pregnancy. However, the shear heat and slippery moistness a man should feel, when entering that hallowed cavern - is lost. And I've tried them all ; ultra thin, ultra-ultra thin, lambskin, super ultra thin. For fucks sake - it just ain't the same!

I often wonder what women actually feel, when a 'dick in a sleeve', enters them ; if the feeling is the same? I wonder if I'm the only man who hates condoms?

The pharmacy person told me toilet paper is on back order ; no firm date was given for its arrival. She suggested patience, rationing and diligence. Did she mean - shit, then shower?

The condoms? An emergency order is coming in on Monday. The next Stanley Cup this city wins? Some say that... will take forever.

It's Monday. Gotta run... and wait in line.

*supercilious ; behaving or looking as though one thinks one is superior to others.
There's a vocabulary spot quiz next week.

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The Bench... 🌹... ... ❗
Posted:Mar 12, 2020 9:06 am
Last Updated:Apr 1, 2020 6:08 am
It's not at all, what spring should have looked like. A blinding snow squall greeted him as he stepped off the city bus and onto the paved trail of that park. It was blustery and cold. He shielded his eyes, as he peered into the whiteness - seeking his bench.

Hordes of tiny ice crystals swirled and stung his face like crushed shards of glass. He drew his woollen tuque over tufts of gray hair and down over his ears. Hunkering his shoulders, he slowly trudged along that snowy path while quickly, filling his pockets with his freezing hands ; he'd forgotten his gloves on the kitchen table.

When he finally arrived, he was surprised to find someone - already sitting there - on HIS bench. It was a woman, perhaps his age ; she was bundled up. He brushed away the snow, sat down and began blowing long... warm breaths into his cupped hands ; then, turned and nodded to her. She nodded back (acknowledging his plight) and gazed ahead. Neither of them spoke as they sat. Swirling snow, blew between and around them - to confirm their silence.

In the distance, they could hear the dull rumble of city traffic. An erie wail of police sirens echoed as wind whistled between leafless trees... and filled the chorus. They both watched, as a car sped it's way along that icy road in front of them. It passed a large, old maple tree then swerved its way around the bend and disappeared... down the hill.

Minutes passed. As if choreographed, they both stood up - at the same time. He turned towards her hesitantly, while stating the obvious ; "Miserable weather, isn't it?"

"It's our typical spring," she chimed, then pointed with a mitted hand ; "There's a café down that road. Would you like to join me, for a coffee? I could use one. Looks like you sure could," she smiled.

He wasn't sure, if she was smiling under her scarf, but he took a chance, smiled back and agreed; "You're right about that. I'd love one."

One year later (to the day), he walked out of that bus once again. The weather hadn't changed much from the previous spring ; it was still cold and the wind was blowing. There was ONE difference this time. He waited, reached for her hand - as she stepped off the bus - and held it tightly in his grasp. They both shuffled up that path together. Her hands were locked around his arm, as he held them there.

Before long, they'd found 'their' bench and sat down. She leaned her head against his shoulder as he pulled her close and shielded her from the blowing wind. Tears... had welled up in her eyes as she looked up into his. She exhaled - as if to clear her head - then sighed and choked back a sob. He tenderly kissed her lips as tears spilled down his cheeks.

One year ago, they'd accidentally met on that bench and fallen in love. Happiness, had been a rare companion in their lives, yet one year later - they'd managed to salvage a part of their broken hearts and sooth fissured dreams.

Fourteen years ago - on this day - she'd lost her young and he, his . They died on that road, right there ; just up by that large, old maple tree. Their cars... had collided.

Tears blinded them both, as they hugged each other. The wind had stopped. Only the sound of snowflakes, gently falling, filled the air around that park bench. They held each other as tightly as they could - afraid to let go.

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Rooms... Have No Idea What's Going On In Them...🔥😶
Posted:Mar 9, 2020 9:03 am
Last Updated:Mar 29, 2020 5:11 am
Darkness was our ally as we scuttled under tree branches, across a short cut... and up the steps to my house. We laughed, breathlessly... as we burst through the front door.

Clothes were thrown off... flung impatiently on the floor. As I turned, you lunged and wrapped your arms around my neck. Your command to kiss you ; was whispered in my ear. As you smiled you closed your eyes and pressed your silky body against mine. I greeted your lips and pushed you backwards - harshly - while lifting you up against the wall. Your legs twisted themselves around me like a wrestler with her prey. Tongues tangled ; we balanced and gasped for air. I felt your heart beating. I inhaled your breath. Your hands raked my shoulders as you arched your back, beckoning me... to touch your moist heat. I did...

We never made it past the living room... as I recall.

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Two Things You Can Do... To Make Her Hum... 🔥❤️
Posted:Mar 3, 2020 9:56 am
Last Updated:Mar 29, 2020 7:28 am
You can find a tiny bit of wisdom and a smidgen of irony, in strange places ; you just have to keep your eyes and ears open and sometimes, they fall right onto your lap. Take yesterday for instance.

As usual, I was driving home and trapped - once again - in snarled traffic. My radio was blaring when I heard these words spoken.

"When you fall in love, you fall in love with that person - in spite of their imperfections."

You might think it was a remark from ; a 'love doctor' or an inspirational 'thought for the day'. In fact, it was part of an advertisement for - of all things - a store selling appliances, that are slightly dinged or scratched. What a captivating by-line to push a product. The announcer also promised ; more than fifty percent off, with a guaranteed 'great deal'.

Ironically - back in the day - my spouse and I went to THAT store and bought a huge side by side fridge. When we first examined that stainless steel behemoth and all its (supposed) imperfections we accepted it, fell in love with it and brought it home. It had a few scratches and a small dent, but that ice box was a beast. She still IS a beast. I own it to this very day!

It's a sombre paradox that my wife and I could live contently, with an imperfect gadget, but we couldn't - live with each other's nicks and dents. Our union... eventually dissolved.

My old fridge? She can still fricken flash freeze burning magnesium - in five seconds! Sure... every once in a while the motor buzzes a bit. I nudge her on the side or jiggle her a touch and - she continues to hum.

If it were only that easy, right ? I didn't think about it back then, but perhaps a nudge here and a jiggle there... might have saved a marriage.

Nah... I don't think so.

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This Lie... Could Result In A Hot Conclusion... 🔥😊
Posted:Feb 26, 2020 6:58 am
Last Updated:Mar 29, 2020 7:30 am
The other night, my buddy *FrankeeZee and I were in that classy Italian restaurant (down on Lakeshore Boulevard), enjoying dinner. I've known Frankee for years, yet he still, manages to surprise me.

I hadn't seen him in a while and it was nice to catch up on things. The meal was authentic and the ambiance, casually quiet ; except for our constant laughter. We waited for the coffee. Suddenly, out through the kitchen marched a loud flurry of waiters.

They were carrying a scrumptious looking piece of black forest cake - bedecked with flashing sparklers. I looked around. We were the only people sitting in THAT corner of the room, yet they headed directly towards our table singing...

"... Happy birthday dear Frankee... Happy birthday to you... "

Frankee's birthday - is in July. I looked at him as he smiled from ear to ear. After they'd gone and while he dug into his cake, I asked him what the fuck, he was doing? He grinned at me (with his stuffed, cherubic cheeks) and replied.

"Well Paul... I've started to tell every restaurant I go to - that it's my birthday. It cheers me up regardless of the type of day I've had. Makes me feel special. And the wait staff seem to enjoy singing. You should try it. Maybe, ya wouldn't be so fucking sarcastic all the time and... you'd write better blogs."

I looked at him and blinked. I had to admit, his cake looked damn good and who doesn't like to feel special?

We had paid and were about to leave, when the manager sauntered up to us with a tray of flaming shots of Sambuca - compliments of the 'house'. I felt like a happy hypocrite as we all cheerfully toasted to Frankee's fake birthday. FrankeeZee, was onto something good!

Now if only... he hadn't accidentally set that manager's hair on fire.

*FrankeeZee is a top blogger, of ™FOGCAF - Friends Of Good Clean Adulterous Fun
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The Easiest Way To Get Noticed In A Crowd😶... Is By Doing This...❗
Posted:Feb 18, 2020 12:44 pm
Last Updated:Mar 29, 2020 5:16 am
Unfortunately... I knew that assembly, was going to be long and dull. Fortunately... I spied an empty seat next to Linda, my favorite co-worker. Strategically... she had carefully chosen a place, at the back. And y'all know what happens at the back of a large meeting hall with a bunch of bored sales reps, right?

We had all bustled into that carpeted auditorium and clamored for spots, like at a carnival. Linda waved her hand and motioned to me. Clutching my sealed coffee mug I weaved between shoulders and around elbows and finally, sank into the deep, cushioned chair, beside her. Linda was a seasoned sales pro (a few years younger than me), with an acerbic sense of humour and a quick wit. If I had a kryptonite, it would be funny people who could make me laugh - and she could. The lights dimmed. A hush fell over the hall...

She whispered into my ear. "Paul... quick guess - how many people in this room had sex over the weekend?"

Those managers probably hadn't. They strutted onto the stage with those expressionless gazes pasted on their faces - squinted into the bright lights - and then they posed. Yet, I had a feeling that sales, were up... and guess what? They were, although I could barely tell. As the figures flashed on a huge screen, I heard a gush of "Ahh"s and then, a murmur of "Ooh"s.

"They look average. What's so special about THAT number?" I nodded towards Linda while pointing.

"For me... it has to be at least, seven and a half, before I'll give it an 'Ooh'," she replied without blinking.

The program droned on until eventually it touched other items on the agenda. They announced - amidst much applause and many hoots and hollers from his friends - that Robert, was getting married next weekend.

Linda looked at me. "Well... THAT'S an expensive way to let everyone know that you're getting fucked on Saturday."

The guy sitting in front of us, overheard Linda's remark and laughed loudly. People turned to look at him. I covered my smile with my hands.

As they were about to declare the names of the winners - for a 'wild weekend of bungee jumping and tacos'- Linda leaned towards me and shared another thought.

"I'm NEVER going to bungee jump. I was born because of a broken rubber and I'm not going to fucking die the same way."

That guy in front of us, burst out laughing once again. He couldn't stop - as the whole auditorium turned and stared. Some people just can't keep it in. As for me? I was biting my lip real hard, as I thought...

"Are business meetings the most inappropriate places to start laughing, or is there another place worse?"
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Want To Have A Second Date? ❤️ Don't Do THIS... After The First... 😮
Posted:Feb 13, 2020 6:56 am
Last Updated:Mar 19, 2020 8:34 am
It was morning and snow had begun to fall in blinding white clumps. Traffic was snarled as I watched my wipers flip back and forth... and back and forth. My daze was suddenly fractured - by a gaggle of obnoxiously cheerful radio voices; "And we have, Steve on the line."

Steve, turned out to be a lucky contestant for the daily five hundred dollar - 'Valentine's Giveaway'. Steve's perfect first date with a woman (Cindy), never materialized into another rendezvous. I listened to his tale of an exciting, whimsical evening of wining and dining and dancing... and then Steve had been ignored; seemingly, without cause. The contest prize? Get Steve and Cindy back on track with a lavish all expense paid, second chance.

The radio hosts would try and reach Cindy and put her on the air. They advised me to stay tuned. Snow fell heavily as I sat there in my car. I took their advice... and waited. Like, I had a fricken choice?

There's a hush that leans in and fills your mind, when you're driving on roads with a cushion of snow on them. You glide in muffled slow motion, as if on plush blankets of thick cotton... sliding - more or less where you aim. I aimed away from the ditch and followed the lights of the cars in front of me. It was hypnotic ; a soothing silencer for the crazy chatter normally filling my head.

My tiny state of nirvana fizzled ; when guess who, came on 'live radio'? Ya got it - Cindy!

She was confused at first and then too shy and nervous to say much about anything. But those hosts kept pushing and finally provoked an answer with a blunt question; "Cindy... Steve thought that it was a great first date. Why didn't you ever see him again?"

"It was a wonderful night. We had a great time. I'd never met anyone like him. I thought... and then..." Cindy stammered.

The radio hosts pushed harder. "And then what? WHAT happened?"

"The next day, he sends me a message with a fucking dick pic."

Gotta love Montreal radio - no filters. Her remark was greeted with shock and laughter. Things got worse when Steve's voice chimed into the conference call fray.

"I didn't mean anything bad by it. I just wanted to show you what to expect and..."

And Cindy... concluded the conversation by hanging up. Dial tone... more laughter and shock, resonated through my speakers.

The radio hosts weren't done yet ; asking Steve if his 'little fella' was alert in that picture he'd sent. Steve replied with ; "Well if you wanna get someone's attention, you're not sending a ship out to sea at half mast."

So... the key to getting a 'second' date IS - don't flash a dick pic, after the 'first' date. Good safety tip. I'm sure there are others, aren't there?

The car in front of me had stalled. I didn't care. I was still laughing... while wondering who'd be on tomorrow's show. Perhaps, I'd be able to pick up more dating advice?

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Why Not Blog While Drinking... An Apology... and Other Excuses Included... 😶
Posted:Jan 29, 2020 6:22 am
Last Updated:Feb 25, 2020 6:05 am
Don't drink and blog - unless you want to get into trouble. It's a good tip to follow. I almost wish I had been drinking, when I posted those comments here the other day - then I'd have an excuse. Albeit... a sad and pathetic one.

My foibles are coarse and simple to analyse. I'm expressive, passionate - and occasionally arrogant - with an explosive (but quickly defused) temper and a harsh tongue. Oh... and my inner monologue is non existent. There you go. Does that make things better or erase what I said? No. But hey... those are my mitigating circumstances ; what the fuck are yours?

There are other do's and don'ts, of when NOT to post your thoughts anywhere, on social media. Let me suggest a few.

Definitely avoid the days where you're horribly sad or joyously happy ; few are interested in opinions painted with extremes. Anger will taint any point of view you express and so will apathy. Try to stay off the web if you're impatient, overly assertive or you've had a bad day. And obviously avoid the internet when you're on your period. Having hot flashes? Keep your fingers in your pockets and don't even open the computer.

Are you really horny and need interactive inspiration? Sure... there are sites for that ; just don't lose control and flash an uninvited vagina (or dick) pic. After eliminating all these don'ts - does that leave you with any perfect days?

There's such a fine line between glib and witty - and flimsy and stale. Your goal should be to leave a positive impression and give it your best shot here - and across the web. One thing's for sure, those subtle differences will be obvious fails - after a few drinks.

I'm just wondering... Might they absolve me if I had gone with the - 'I was under the influence' plea? Yet... that defence, would have been a lie. I prefer to be honest and admit - it was just me. Hmmm... Which is worse? 🤔

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Nuns Prefer... the Missionary Position... 😮🔥
Posted:Jan 27, 2020 12:02 pm
Last Updated:Feb 11, 2020 8:58 am
It was early Sunday morning. I opened a bottle of wine - a refreshing Chablis - and poured myself a glass. I'd started a project to rid my house of clutter... but who does housework sober?

The TV played in the background as a church choir soothed my soul. I pulled on my work gloves. I recalled reading on the web, that nuns prefer the missionary position. It must be true ; but I'll ask... next time I see one.

When you go through your stuff, it's amazing to see how much useless junk you can accumulate. A frayed and worn size 30 belt, taxes from ninety six; I think not. I found an unused coffee gift card - from the year two thousand. Damn! Ya think I can still use it?

The church service continued to inspire me, as I refilled my glass. Did you know that most of us will be going to hell? I'm pretty sure I've got a 'speed pass' waiting for me - so I'm all set.

I'd filled up two more garbage bags with debris and my count (since I started last week), was now up to ten. I felt a sense of accomplishment. I took a break and dug into my fridge for the wine.

Flopping back down on the couch, I looked around at all that I'd done. Nothing looked different. Nothing had changed. In fact (from what I saw), I might as well have sat there on the couch... drinking fucking wine all morning.

The golf channel flashed and Tiger Woods teed off . I'd continue with the clean up, another day. I rose from the couch ; my glass was half empty again... or was it half full?

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Dick and Jane Ran... Then Fucked... 🔥😮
Posted:Jan 24, 2020 11:29 am
Last Updated:Mar 28, 2020 5:49 am
Part of my 'Eezzee Reed Series' ; for those who find words tiresome.
Plenty of pics though.
👍 😶

See Dick.
See Dick run.
Run Dick run.

See Jane.
See Jane run.
Run Jane run.

See Dick and Jane run.

See Spot, the dog.
See Spot - the dog - run past them, all the way down the block.

Oh... for fucks sake!
Who forgot to close the gate to the yard?

After they'd caught Spot, they went back to the house (showered) and fucked each other's brains out. Ugh... I meant ; they made passionate love together.

Dick and Jane had a good morning as they both came in each other's arms.

. ..

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